Epilogue
Five years later...
Dominic sat in the warm glow of the nursery, cradling his six-month-old daughter against his chest. Elizabeth’s soft breathing tickled his collarbone, and her tiny fist clutched a fold of his cravat.
He glanced across the room and smiled fondly at the sight of his four-year-old son, John, sprawled in his small bed, one chubby arm dangling over the edge.
Contentment filled Dominic’s chest until it nearly overwhelmed him.
This simple moment meant more to him than any fortune he could have amassed.
His greatest accomplishment was not counted in lands or titles, but in the small, precious lives he had helped create.
His family completed him in a way he had once believed impossible.
He was finally at peace, at peace with where he had been, at peace with what he had been through and at peace with where he was headed.
The soft click of the door opening drew his gaze upward. Dorothea stepped into the room wearing a maroon gown that shimmered in the candlelight. Her red hair was swept into an intricate knot atop her head and a delicate headpiece of diamonds nestled amongst the curls.
Their eyes met, and she smiled—a smile just for him. “We are going to be late for the ball if we do not leave now,” she said in a hushed voice.
Dominic only tightened his hold on Elizabeth and murmured, “We can afford to be late.”
Dorothea laughed under her breath, a sound that still stirred his heart after all these years. “You say that now, but your uncle would be most displeased. This ball is to celebrate your cousin’s engagement, after all.”
Dominic scowled good-naturedly. “My cousin is worthless.”
“Perhaps,” Dorothea conceded with a smirk, “but you are still expected to attend.”
His gaze dropped back to the sleeping babe in his arms. “I would rather spend the evening holding Elizabeth.”
Dorothea arched a stern brow, though her eyes danced with teasing affection. “Lay Elizabeth in her crib and step away, my love.”
Reluctantly, Dominic pressed a kiss to the crown of his daughter’s head and rose carefully, mindful not to disturb her.
Elizabeth stirred, letting out a tiny, sleepy groan of protest as he settled her into the cradle.
In the corner of the room, the nursemaid rose from her chair, her movements gentle and watchful as she moved to tend to the babe should she wake.
Dominic turned and silently gestured for Dorothea to lead the way. Once they stepped into the corridor, he closed the nursery door behind him and pulled Dorothea into his arms.
“Perhaps we should forgo the ball altogether and have our own private celebration instead,” he murmured flirtatiously against her ear.
Dorothea gave a mock gasp of outrage and swatted lightly at his chest. “Behave, Husband,” she chided, though she made no effort to move away. “We are required to attend. Besides, your friends will be there.”
Dominic snorted. “Friends? More like a collection of people I barely tolerate.”
“Well, their wives have become some of my dearest friends,” she countered, resting her hands against his chest.
He leaned in and stole a lingering kiss. “Very well. We shall attend but you must allow me to steal you away at the first opportunity.”
Dorothea shook her head with a resigned smile. “You are incorrigible.”
Dominic’s grin widened. “It is hardly my fault. It is near impossible to find time alone with you anymore, thanks to our needy children.”
“And whose fault is that?”
He dropped one hand to rest gently against her stomach, his thumb brushing slow, tender circles. “I agreed to having one, maybe two children. I never consented to a third,” he teased, a mock gravity in his tone.
Dorothea’s eyes gleamed. “And yet, as I recall, you had a rather enthusiastic part in creating this third child.”
Dominic opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the arrival of Tabitha, bustling down the hall towards them.
“The coach is waiting out front, my lord, my lady,” Tabitha announced with a slight curtsy.
Dominic sighed dramatically but released Dorothea, though he kept her hand in his. “This is your last chance,” he said, lowering his voice. “We could run off to Scotland instead. A few days of peace and quiet. No balls, no obligations…”
Dorothea arched a knowing brow. “You would miss the children before we crossed the border.”
“I would,” he admitted without shame.
Tabitha, undeterred by their banter, reached into her apron pocket. “I nearly forgot. A letter arrived for you, my lord. It is from Tristan.”
Dominic accepted the letter with a smile. “How is my ward faring at Eton?”
“He writes that he is enjoying it,” Tabitha said. “Although he has a rather unusual request.”
Dorothea’s eyes narrowed with amusement. “Oh, dear. What now?”
Tabitha tried to keep a straight face. “He wishes to bring a pet back with him after the break.”
“A pet to Eton?” he asked. “Do they even allow such a thing?”
“Apparently, Lord Byron kept a bear at Cambridge when dogs were forbidden, and Tristan sees no reason why Eton should be any different,” Tabitha replied.
Dominic let out a bark of laughter that echoed down the corridor. “I am not acquiring a bear for Tristan.”
Tabitha grinned. “I do believe that is sound judgment, my lord.”
Turning towards his wife, Dominic extended his arm with a flourish. “Shall we depart for the ball, my love?”
Dorothea looped her arm through his with a smile. “I think that would be wise.”
As they walked slowly down the corridor, Dominic stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. Her steps were graceful, but he did not miss the slight paleness to her cheeks. Concern crept into his voice as he asked, “How are you faring?”
Dorothea pressed a gloved hand lightly against her stomach. “I have been rather ill with this pregnancy,” she admitted. “More so than before. I am hoping the sickness will ease soon.”
Dominic frowned, slowing his steps. “Would you prefer to stay home and rest? We can make our excuses.”
She shot him an exasperated look. “You are not going to wriggle out of this ball, Dominic.”
He shrugged with a mock sigh of defeat. “It was worth a try.”
Ahead, Wright stepped forward and pulled open the main door. The cool evening air swept into the house as Dominic carefully assisted Dorothea into the waiting coach. He climbed in after her, settling onto the cushioned seat at her side as the coach lurched forward into motion.
Without hesitation, Dominic reached for her hand, his fingers lacing through the fine silk of her glove. He tilted his head slightly. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Dominic leaned closer and whispered, “Exactly.”
She laughed, the soft, musical sound filling the small space between them.
“No incessant talking. No crying. No small feet pounding through the corridors,” he said with a sigh as he leaned back against the seat. “It’s quiet. Blessedly quiet.”
For a few long moments, they simply sat there, feeling the gentle sway of the coach, listening to the muted clatter of hooves on the cobbled street.
Then Dorothea said, “I miss the children.”
Dominic turned his head towards her, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So do I.”
She gave a rueful laugh. “We are hopeless, are we not?”
“I do hope our children will grow up and be close with one another.”
“They will,” Dorothea replied. “For they will be nothing like Matthew. Quite frankly, I only feel relief that he was transported.”
“As do I.”
“But I do not wish to talk about him ever again, or his obnoxious wife.”
He cast her a curious look. “What would you prefer to talk about?”
“Anything, really,” she replied.
Dominic shifted in his seat, angling himself so that he could fully face her.
How could he not love this woman? She had changed the very course of his life.
He tightened his grip on her hand and said, “Even in my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined being this unbelievably happy. And it is all because of you.”
“I feel the same way,” she murmured.
Dominic reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing a tender path along her skin. “Promise me,” he started, “that when we are old and gray, we will still fight for one another. That no matter what life throws our way, we will choose each other—again and again.”
“I can promise that,” she replied, her hand coming up to cover his where it rested against her cheek.
Leaning closer until their foreheads nearly touched, Dominic whispered, “I cannot wait until our children are older, and we can sit them down and tell them our love story.”
“It all started,” Dorothea whispered, her breath mingling with his, “when I saw you for the first time—and you stole my heart.”
Dominic closed the distance between them and captured her lips with his own in a kiss that was slow, reverent, and full of everything he could not find the words to say.
He didn’t know many things with certainty. Life had taught him how quickly everything could change, how easily things could be lost. But he did know, with every beat of his heart, that he had never loved another as fiercely, as wholly, as he loved Dorothea.
She showed him that love can exist in the most imperfect and broken people. And for that, he would be forever grateful.
The End